Anything With Wizards
by JoeMerl
Summary: A collection of stories about the "Total Drama" characters in a "Harry Potter" AU. Based on the Ask-Magical-Total-Drama blog on Tumblr. Newest story: At the beginning of first year, Noah doesn't really have any friends. Then he gets detention with two crazy girls.
1. Zom-mentor

**Author's Notes: **On Tumblr, I run a blog called Ask-Magical-Total-Drama, which is basically all the TD characters in a Hogwarts AU. This, of course, required lots of back story and headcanons, which I might as well also use for fanfic.

These will basically be a bunch of random, often unrelated short stories, though they do have a shared continuity. Hopefully everything will be clear enough that you can read them here even if you don't follow the blog (he said, knowing full-well that part of this story isn't).

For this chapter, no Wawanakwa School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; instead, back story about why Shawn is such a nervous wreck, with lots of Ezekiel's family because why not?

* * *

Nine-year-old Shawn Wright rode his bike through the field, staring up at the steel-gray clouds above him. "I'm starting to think today was a bad day to come outside," he muttered.

Shawn was answered by a cold breeze, which swept through the tall prairie grass and made him shiver. Normally Shawn would spend the whole weekend outdoors if he could, but the weather had been getting darker and colder all morning, and he really wasn't looking forward to a four kilometer bike ride if it finally started to rain. But then, he wasn't looking forward to being cooped up inside and having to fight with his sister over the TV either.

Shawn reached the end of the field and crossed the dirt road, finally coming to his destination**—**the Bouctouche family farm, where his friend Ezekiel lived. Shawn got off his bike and left it at the gate, walking the long, well-trod path toward the family home. The place had a huge front yard and apple trees growing on one side of the path; the barn, wheat and animals were all kept behind the house.

Shawn looked up at the sky again, frowning. Well, there was no chance of coaxing Ezekiel to come play outside, he thought, and it was never much fun inside the Bouctouche house**—**his parents were super-strict; Ezekiel didn't own a computer or even any video games. But at least Mrs. Bouctouche would offer him some lunch, and if it started raining Mr. Bouctouche could at least drive him home**—**

Suddenly Shawn stopped, bent over, and shivered violently, feeling as if ice water had just flooded his insides. The temperature had instantly gone from "a bit chilly" to "why are you wearing a bathing suit in the snow?," but other than that Shawn hadn't felt so much as a light breeze.

"What the**—**"

Shawn lifted his head, tried to stand upright, and saw it, gliding out from the shadows between the Bouctouches' apple trees.

The rational part of Shawn's brain immediately thought of a man in a Halloween costume, except that, if he was judging distances right, this man must have been _huge,_ and the instinctual part of his brain was screaming that that wasn't even close to right. Its clothes looked less like a black cloak and more like a shadow that had been made solid. Its head leaned back and made a strange, horrible rattling sound, and Shawn automatically shivered again, his head suddenly spinning, a horrible terror clutching at his heart**—**

Then he saw a _hand_ emerge from the cloak's sleeve. A scabby, _dead_-looking hand with pallid gray skin, which reached out toward Shawn as the figure turned, gliding out of the shadows in his direction.

For a moment, Shawn stood frozen. But as the figure approached**—**as soon as Shawn's mind processed the fact that it was heading _right towards him__**—**_he found the ability to move. And he ran screaming.

* * *

Ezekiel Bouctouche was calmly sitting in his den, reading a book, when a sudden noise made him jump so hard that he fell onto the floor.

_BANG BANG BANG! DING-DONG! BANG DING-DONG BANG!_

"_Let me in! It's after me! IT'S AFTER ME!_"

Blinking in confusion, Ezekiel crossed the room and had barely started to open the door when Shawn ran in, slammed it shut and pressed his back against it, wide-eyed and panting.

"Uh…hi?" Ezekiel said, taking a cautious step away from him. "Is…everything okay?"

"_ZOMBIE!_"

Almost faster than Ezekiel could see, he dashed onto the love seat and curled up in a ball, shaking. Ezekiel didn't have time to react, however, as a set of heavy footsteps came in from the kitchen, and his dad appeared in the doorway, followed closely by his mom, who looked like she had been in the middle of cooking lunch.

"What on Earth is going in out here?!"

Ezekiel looked to Shawn, who was still cowering, and then to his dad, who was apparently waiting for him to offer an explanation. Ezekiel just shrugged, and then, when his dad kept staring at him, motioned to his friend. "Shawn just ran in here screaming, eh. Said something about a**—**"

"_ZOMBIE!_"

Ezekiel and both his parents winced. A child began crying in another part of the house.

Mrs. Bouctouche sighed. "Well, sounds like Mel's up from his nap. _Watch your blood pressure, Jethro,_" she added, giving her husband a poke on the arm before heading upstairs.

Ezekiel had managed to get Shawn into a sitting position, though the younger boy was still shaking, holding his knees up against his chest. "It's right outside, near your apple trees**—**only saw one, but who knows how many there are**—**IS THAT DOOR BARRICADED?! WHY HAVEN'T YOU BARRICADED THE DOOR YET?!"

"_Shawn!"_

Jethro Bouctouche crossed his arms, glaring down at the boy. He was a very large man and could usually be quite intimidating, but right now Shawn seemed oblivious to anything around him. His eyes darted around the room, making him look like a cornered animal.

Jethro sighed, trying to hold his temper. "Calm down. You did not see a zombie, eh. It was probably just a branch moving in the wind, or a shadow, or that damn Scott kid trying to steal more of our fruit**—**"

"_It was a zombie! _I'm sure of it! I saw it's _hand!_" Shawn said, waving his own wildly. "It was all**—**dead and gray and rotted! And it was making this**—**_horrible_ noise, like the rattley gasp people make when they die on TV! I'm telling you, it was real!"

Jethro rolled his eyes. "Shawn, I'm telling you, it could not**—**"

He stopped as something clicked in his head. He frowned thoughtfully, glancing toward the window and the dark sky outside.

"…from the States. They don't even live in Canada, eh," Ezekiel was saying as his father weighed the possibilities.

"They don't _live _anywhere! All I'm telling you is that I saw a dead person walking around outside!"

"_Ezekiel!_" Jethro snapped, just as his son was about to start talking again. Ezekiel immediately straightened up, glancing at his father. "I'm going to go outside and take a look around. You take care of Shawn, Mel and your mom, eh?"

"Uh**—**okay. But, uh**—**what do you mean?" he asking, stepping away from his trembling friend and dropping his tone to a whisper.

Jethro hesitated for a moment, then answered in an even quieter voice so that Shawn couldn't hear. "I'm not sure. But if anything happens, use the Floo powder to get Mr. Lovell. Understand?"

Ezekiel didn't have time to ask anything else; his mother had just appeared on the staircase, holding his little brother's hand, and Jethro went over, exchanging a few whispered words before walking out of the house.

And as soon as the door was closed, Jethro reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand.

* * *

Ezekiel had to practically drag Shawn to the kitchen table. Fortunately, the younger boy had finally stopped snapping between a blank stupor and manic terror**—**_un_fortunately, this just meant he was stuck in terror now.

"I can't believe your dad went out there! He's a dead man, Zeke! Who _knows_ how many more zombies are out there! And not just here**—**what if they already got to my house? What if they already got to _the whole town?!_ We might be the last living humans in all of Rowling! _DOESN'T THAT FREAK YOU OUT, ZEKE?!_"

Ezekiel's little brother Mel, who had been playing with his crayons, held up a scribbly drawing. "Zommie!" he said cheerfully.

Mrs. Bouctouche clucked her tongue from the stove where she was cooking. "Now, Shawn, don't you think you're overreacting?"

"_You didn't see it!_ You didn't**—**feel the _chill_ running down your spine…"

Shawn's voice had turned very quiet again, and he hugged himself, shivering again. Ezekiel watched him with concern, then turned to the back of his mother's head. He didn't know what his father had said to her**—**and he couldn't exactly ask in front of Shawn**—**but he could swear that her tone and movements seemed more cautious and fretful than usual. Truth be told, this whole situation was making him nervous too.

Frowning to herself, Mrs. Bouctouche set two steaming mugs down on the table and handed a sippy cup to Mel. "Here. Have some hot chocolate. Lunch'll be ready in a few minutes, eh?"

Ezekiel took his cup and began to sip, watching as Shawn began scratching under his toque nervously. "How much food do you guys have, anyway? We'll probably have to hole up here**—**that's what they always do in the movies, anyway**—**wait 'em out…not that that ever works, though…_ugh…_"

He picked up his hot chocolate**—**his hands were trembling so badly he spilled some on the table**—**and took a slow sip. "_Mmm,_"he said suddenly, his face perking up. "This is really good, Mrs. B. Your dad has a shotgun, right?" he asked suddenly, turning to Ezekiel.

"Huh?" Ezekiel blinked. "Uh**—**no."

"But I thought you two went on hunting trips all the time?!"

"Well, yeah, but Dad usually uses his wa**—**"

Mrs. Bouctouche, over at the counter, "accidentally" slammed the cabinet closed so loudly that it made Ezekiel jump; she shot him a look, and he suddenly shut his mouth tightly, turning a shade of pink. Shawn didn't seem to notice any of that.

"How are we gonna defend this place from the _zombies_ if we don't have any weapons?! You guys are weirdo farm-people, _you're supposed to have a shotgun!_"

"Shawn, be quiet and drink your cocoa," Mrs. Bouctouche said, her tone firm.

Shawn winced like a dog who had been smacked with the newspaper, then sipped his hot chocolate again; it seemed to do wonders for his nerves, because he visibly relaxed and finished what was left of his mug. "This stuff is really good. Um**—**c-can I get a refill?"

"Of course," Mrs. Bouctouche said deftly, taking his mug away as she set a peanut butter sandwich down in front of Mel.

"With marshmallows?" Shawn added, his voice tiny and hopefully.

"I'll see what I can do."

Ezekiel sipped his own mug, but somehow still felt a bit queasy as he glanced out the kitchen window.

* * *

It had started to rain, albeit lightly, as Jethro approached the fruit trees, his wand held firmly in his hand. There was a hard look in his dark gray eyes.

"If anybody's there, you have one chance to come out before I curse you. _Scott._"

For a moment there was no sound but the wind and no movement except the trees' waving branches. But then, he heard it**—**a low, rattling breath, at the same time that a ten-foot shadow began to move toward him**—**

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

A full-sized, silvery bull exploded from the end of Jethro's wand, slamming into the dementor with all of its might. The specter flew back, seemed to almost lose its shape for a moment, and then fled, gliding as quickly as it could with Jethro's Patronus racing after it.

Jethro raised his wand higher, scanning the area**—**it wasn't unknown for dementors to travel in groups. The rain was getting harder now, as if it weren't difficult enough to see**—**he muttered a quick "_Lumos,_" waving his wand like a torch**—**

His wand-light fell on another huge shadow gliding right toward him. He swung his arm back to deliver another Patronus**—**and the light revealed two more, approaching from another part of the trees.

Jethro's eyes widened, and he hesitated for just a second**—**which was all it took for the dementors' presence to hit him like a blast of icy wind. He took a step back, stumbled, nearly fell**—**it was raining harder now, or maybe his vision was just blurred. He tried to raise his wand again, but suddenly his arm felt so heavy…the orchard was spinning, and a cold sort of terror was slowly settling in**—**

He heard a child scream and recognized the voice instantly.

_Ezekiel?_

His vision continued to darken, and suddenly the rainy daytime and the looming dementors were changing**—**Jethro closed his eyes tight, but he still saw flashes of a dark night, a full moon in the sky, and the glint of claws and teeth as the stench of blood collided with his face**—**

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_"

Jethro waved his wand wildly, and then again, and managed to produce some silvery mist. His vision began to clear in time to see the dementors drawing back, their advance halted by the half-formed Patronus. Jethro grit his teeth and took several deep breaths, then yelled again, "_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_"

This time it worked**—**another bull came charging out of his wand, and the dementors fled, disappearing into the shadows as the Patronus gave chase.

Jethro took a few shaky steps and collapsed against the nearest tree. "Just a memory, eh," he said, panting as he looked back up toward the house.

* * *

Mrs. Bouctouche remembered her husband saying that chocolate calmed you down after a dementor encounter. Well, it apparently had its limits, because Shawn was on his fourth mug and was still acting crazier than usual.

"How much food do you guys have stored up?"

"I don't know, Shawn," said Ezekiel. He was sitting on the couch, his face buried in his hands. He could only go so long before his worry gave way to annoyance.

"What about a panic room? We need a place where we _know_ the zombies can't reach us!"

Ezekiel scoffed. _Well, with all the protection charms Dad put on the cellar__**—**_

Both boys jumped as the door banged open. Jethro stumbled in, sopping wet. Mrs. Bouctouche quickly got up to meet him.

"Is everything alright out there?"

"Everything's fine. I didn't find anything."

Shawn jumped to his feet. "BUT I _SAW _IT**—**"

"_Shawn!_"

The boy drew back like a frightened animal. Jethro sighed, meeting his wife's gaze as she gave him a stern look. "Look, it's raining cats and dogs anyway, so I'll drive you home. That way no 'zombies' will get you, eh?"

Shawn looked nervous. "I…guess." His eye twitched, and then he crossed his legs. "Er**—**I can use your bathroom before we go?"

"Of course, dear," said Mrs. Bouctouche.

Shawn ran upstairs. Ezekiel rose from the couch and cautiously approached his father.

"Did you…_really_ find anything, Dad?"

Jethro sighed again. "Yeah. A couple of dementors." Ezekiel's eyes widened as Jethro rubbed his eyes wearily. "Not sure where they ran off too**—**I should probably send an owl to the Verhoevens and the Lovells, let them know to be on the lookout…then someone'll probably call in an Auror, and we'll have to spend the whole afternoon dealing with bureaucrats…"

Ezekiel swallowed; he only ever read about dementors in books, but from what he knew they sounded terrible. Then a thought occurred. "Wait**—**I thought only wizards could see dementors. Shawn's a Muggle."

Jethro waved his hand in an exhausted sort of way. "Apparently not, eh?"

Ezekiel's eyes widened as he let that sink in. "So does that I mean I can tell him that _I'm_ a wizard**—**"

"Hold your horses, young man," his mother said, raising her hand. "The last thing that boy needs right now is another shock to his system, eh?"

"Got that right," Jethro said, though he was mostly thinking about how _annoying _that kid might become if he started asking a million questions about magic. "He'll find out in a couple of years anyway. No use breaking the Statute of Secrecy until then."

"But**—**"

"_No 'buts,'_ _Ezekiel._"

Ezekiel deflated under his father's unyielding eye. He was imagining all the possibilities, though…

Shawn came back downstairs, eyeing the door nervously. "I'm ready to go, Mr. B. I _guess. _Are you…_sure _you don't have a shotgun we can bring?"

Jethro rolled his eyes as he put his hand on Shawn's back and steered him out of the house.


	2. Team Escope's Detention

**Author's Notes:** Wow, it's been a long time since I updated this, huh? But to be fair, I've still been involved in the "Magical Total Drama" world through "Yule Brawl." Anyway, someone wanted to know how Team Escope met in this universe. Enjoy!

* * *

"So you use actual brooms. How original."

Noah's fellow first-year Slytherins gave him a look as the instructor, Groundskeeper/Chef Hatchet, marched up to the group, grumbling to himself.

"Don't know how I let him talk me into this, like I ain't got enough to do—alright, runts, Professor McLean is makin' me teach you how to fly. Now—"

"_I_ don't need to learn nothin'!" said Lightning, puffing out his chest. "I bet I can fly circles around anyone in this school!"

"Yeah, yeah, just about any of you who ain't a Muggle-born can probably do this in your sleep."

_Great,_ thought Noah, who was, in fact, the only Muggle-born Slytherin in his year. He heard someone snickering and glared behind him; Alejandro quickly arranged his face into an angelic mask, but Noah could still see a certain smugness in his smile.

For once, however, Noah didn't seem to be the only one. "You," Hatchet said, pointing. "You're the youngest Burromuerto kid, right?"

Alejandro's unctuous smile quickly faltered. "Yes."

"Both your older brothers are on the Slytherin Quidditch team, ain't they?"

"_Yes,_" Alejandro said, with a definite note of bitterness now. Scott and Heather both looked amused at his discomfort.

"Well, why don't you demonstrate to the class how it's done, then? Get on your broom and give me a lap around the goal posts."

"...Alright," Alejandro said. He held his hand out over his broom, cleared his throat and said "Up!"

The broom twitched before lying still on the grass.

It took Alejandro two more tries to get the broom to jump into his hand, at which point he mounted it in a way that looked awkward even to Noah's untrained eye. He kicked off from the ground, rose about fifteen feet into the air, making a perfect arch...

...which _kept_ arching downward, even as Alejandro screamed, trying to pull up and before he _CRASHed_ into the ground.

Lightning, Heather and Scott all started laughing, while Noah smirked. Courtney gave them a stern look. "It wasn't _that_ funny," she said, as Alejandro picked him off the ground, straightening out his robes and looking red in the face.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Let's see if any of you runts can do better. Now everybody—"

"Uh, excuse me?" said Heather, who had simply picked her broom up from the ground. "Are these _Cleansweep Sevens?_"

"That's what they say on the handle."

"_Sevens?_ These were made before I was born!" Scott protested. All of the Slytherins were now picking up and examining their brooms. Noah wasn't sure what it was _supposed_ to look like, but his certainly seemed splintery and old, with half its bristles missing.

"Cleansweeps?_ EW!_" said Dakota, casting hers away as if it had the plague.

"Aw, don't be such a bunch of babies! Lightning can fly anything!" said Lightning, who wasted no time in mounting his broom. "Sha-BAM!_"_

He took off. Noah and the others watched as he began to fly in an upward spiral, whooping like an idiot. However, once he got too high his whoops turned into cries of protests, and he spiraled back to the ground, crash-landing in a way that, while it left him face-down in the dirt, still looked graceful compared to Alejandro's performance.

"What the heck?! These brooms are all jacked up! They go crazy if you fly higher than twenty feet!"

Chef looked sour, but shrugged. "Yeah, well, that's the equipment you got to work with."

"Isn't there _anything_ in this school that doesn't suck?!"

"I can't use _cheap_ things! I'm allergic! They give me hives!"

"I could crash and break my beautiful face!"

"_QUIET!_" Chef snapped. "Now everybody pick up your brooms and get flyin'!"

There was a lot of mutinous grumbling, but all the other students, including a nervous-looking Alejandro, picked up their brooms and took off, looking shaky even when they tried to stay low and slow. Noah, however, simply stared at his broomstick's handle, wincing slightly as he heard Anne Maria crash a few feet away.

"Well, what you waiting for, Kumar?"

"Um...I think I'll just stick to taking the bus."

Chef Hatchet glowered. Noah rolled his eyes and decided on a different tactic. "Okay," he said, making like he was trying to mount his broom. "But I've never done this before, so I hope that I—agh!"

He gave a colorless cry as he "accidentally" tripped himself with his own broom, falling back onto the grass. "Ow. My leg, it hurts," he said unconvincingly. "I'll just go watch from the bleachers, okay?"

Chef Hatchet suddenly snatched the broom away from him, his face apoplectic. "Alright! And while we're at it, why don't you take fifty points from Slytherin and a detention tomorrow night?!"

Scott had just crashed into the ground in front of them, but he immediately looked up. "_Fifty points?!_"

"_Detention?!_ Okay, fine, I'll try the stupid thing." Noah held out his hands to take back the broom.

"Too late! Your lazy butt is gonna learn not to waste any more of my precious time! Now go!" he said, pointing at the stands.

Noah now noticed that the rest of the House, both in the air and on the ground, were all watching the exchange, and all of them were glaring at him. He tried to think of a witty comeback for the idiot instructor, but instead just marched off to the bleachers, grumbling to himself.

Noah spent the next fifty minutes getting started on his Transfiguration homework, glancing up occasionally to see one of his Housemates crash into the ground. When it was finally time to go back up to the castle he got up to join them, but as soon as he did he found several of them glaring at him again, and to his surprise Lightning actually reached out and smacked him in the back of the head.

"_Hey!_"

"Way to go, brainiac! You lost our House fifty points!"

"_Me?_ It was that moron who decided to throw a tantrum. Probably because he's Head of Gryffindor, incidentally."

If Noah expected shifting the blame to work, he was sorely disappointed. "But he wouldn't have taken those points if _you_ hadn't been such a lazy slacker," Heather scoffed.

"Yeah!" said Scott.

Noah glared at him. "Please. _You've_ probably lost more than fifty points by now just from all the times you've dropped stinks-bombs in hallways."

"They're called _Dungbombs,_" Alejandro said with a maddeningly pretentious air.

"Oh, _excuse me_."

He stomped ahead toward the castle, listening to the others grumble behind him.

* * *

Noah grumbled as he made his way out of the first-years' dorm. "Making me do this at _night?_ Yeah, maybe I'll be more proactive if I don't get any _sleep, _that makes a whole lot of—"

"_Wingardium leviosa,"_ somebody whispered behind him.

"_OOF!_"

Noah's shoes suddenly lifted off the ground, with him in them, then fell, causing him to topple face-first onto the floor. He glared behind him just in time to see Scott sitting in bed with his wand out. "Have a nice detention," he said, sticking his tongue out.

Noah glared, picked himself up and stomped out into the common room. "I hate these people," he muttered, making his way out into the dungeons. "People at my old school weren't this stupid. _Grr..._"

That line of thought gave him pause, however. Back at his Muggle primary school, he had actually been quite popular; he'd always known how to charm people to get what he wanted. Why wasn't that working here? _Probably just because it's a new set of people,_ he realized after a moment. He had tricked his gym teachers into letting him sit out of sports for so long that they stopped expecting him to participate; he went out of his way to make friends with bullies so that they would defend him against other bullies. Now he had a fresh start with these people—_which isn't necessarily a good thing,_ he thought with a scowl.

How was he going to deal with that problem, then? Help people with their homework? Would that even work? Aside from the fact that he was just now learning about magic himself, he was already universally hated in Slytherin. Maybe he should try to find students who weren't such uppity boneheads in the other Houses.

He was walking while he thought, and soon found himself in the entrance hall, where Chef Hatchet was already waiting. To his surprise, so were two girls whom he vaguely recognized.

"Finally, our last maggot is here," said Hatchet.

"Good. Can we _go_ now?" asked the stocky Gryffindor with a black ponytail.

The other girl, a Ravenclaw with wild red hair, suddenly grabbed Noah's arm and pulled him toward the group. "_Yeah,_ let's go! _Over the river and through the woods_—"

"What is this girl babbling about?"

"We're going into the Forbidden Forest," said the Gryffindor girl.

"And I'm not 'this girl!' I mean, I'm a girl, but my name is Escope! Short for Kaleidoscope."

Noah stared. "Please tell me that you're joking."

"Nope! Well, actually, yeah. I'm Izzy."

"We're going into the _forest? _The one we were specifically told _not_ to go into because it was filled with monsters?"

"Headmaster McLean needs us to collect bowtruckles for the Care of Magical Creatures class. _You_ little brats are gonna help me get 'em," said Hatchet, throwing an empty sack over his shoulder.

"What are we supposed to be, the _bait?!_"

"Bowtruckles are about six inches tall and eat wood lice," the Gryffindor girl said, rolling her eyes.

"Aw, really?! What a rip-off."

"If y'all didn't want to put yourselves in danger, you shouldn't have gotten in trouble in the first place! And besides, there ain't anything in this forest that _I_ can't handle. Now, come on."

Noah was going to object again, but to his surprise Izzy grabbed both him and the Gryffindor girl by the hands. "YEAH, LET'S GO!" she said, and, ignoring their objections, pulled them along with her out the door.

* * *

Ten minutes later Noah was walking through the forest; Izzy had released him by this point, and he and the Gryffindor girl were trailing behind her, his arms crossed defiantly over his chest.

"So what's your name, fellow inmate?"

"Eva," she growled.

"I'm Noah. So what are you in for?"

"She punched someone!" Izzy called cheerfully.

"He deserved it!" Eva said with sudden fury. "That stupid Ezekiel kid went on some spiel about how girls were too weak to play Quidditch! So I decided to show _him_ who's weak!"

"Ezekiel. Isn't his dad a professor or something?"

Eva looked annoyed. "Well, yeah. I know that _now._"

"Professor Bouctouche was _so_ mad," Izzy said happily. "He was all 'GRR, DETENTION FOR ANYONE WHO HURTS MY SON, EH!' Ha-ha, it was awesome."

"And what crime did _you_ somehow fail to plead insanity for?" Noah asked.

"I blew up a toilet!"

"And who do you think had to clean that up?!" Chef snapped. "Now be quiet back there!"

The three were quiet for a moment, except for Izzy's rather loud humming. "So, what'd you do?" Eva asked under her breath.

"Refused to make a fool of myself in Flying class. I'm a Muggle-born, and even the kids who know _how_ to fly kept crashing into the ground every ten seconds."

"That's weird. What kind of brooms are they?"

"I don't remember the name, but everybody in my class made it sound like the headmaster stole them from an archaeological expedition. I take it your House hasn't gone flying yet?"

"No, but I'll be _ticked _if I have to do it on some old Cleansweep Twelve or something."

"That's weird, Chef was just telling me about you today!" Izzy said. "We had Flying and he said that if I didn't participate I'd end up 'like that scrawny Slytherin maggot' and get another detention!"

Noah glared as Chef grunted. "Yeah, well, I regret that. Crazy Girl spent the whole lesson screamin' and crashin' into every other student."

"I told you that I was afraid of heights."

"Yeah, yeah...just be quiet! We should be safe as long as we stick to the path, but—"

Just then there came a scream from far away, making all of them jump.

"...What was that?"

"You kids stay here," said Chef, before taking off into the forest.

"What?!" Noah called after him. "_'Stay here?!'_ Alone, in the forest that we've already established is filled with monsters?!"

Eva looked worried. "What, do you want to run _towards_ whatever caused that scream?"

"I'd rather stay with the seven-foot, adult wizard who could _fight _whatever caused it, yes!"

"Don't worry, Noah!" Izzy said, taking out her wand and waving it around like a sword. "I'll protect you! I've slain like, a hundred dragons before!"

"Aren't you a Muggle-born?"

"Yeah-huh."

Noah looked at Eva. "_That's _the part of her story that you find suspicious?" Noah was used to sarcasm, so he found it oddly comforting in their current situation. He looked around the forest. "So what do we do if a monster _does _try to kill us?"

Eva looked a bit nervous, but she set her jaw and held up her wand. "We fight it."

"Oh, wonderful. I'm sure you and your Gryffindor bravado will serve us well."

"Shut up! My dad was a professional duelist, I know enough spells to break every bone in your body!"

"But do you know enough to do that to a _dragon?_"

"There are no dragons in Canada! That's stupid!"

"Well, excuse me, I must have been sick the day that my Muggle primary school went over the geography of Middle-earth!"

"Middle-what?"

"Hey, guys?" Izzy asked suddenly. "What's that noise?"

Noah and Eva both froze and listened. They heard the sound of rustling leaves and branches snapping.

"Maybe it's Chef coming back," Eva said nervously.

The brush in front of them parted.

It wasn't Chef.

It was something ten feet tall, greenish-gray, and with arms as thick as Noah's whole body.

"What is that?!" he cried in horror as he and Eva both backed up against a tree.

"A forest troll!"

The troll blinked its tiny eyes and turned its head, regarding the two children. For a long moment it didn't seem to know what it should do about their presence, but then it lifted up its club, which looked like it had once been the trunk of a small tree, and swung it at them.

"AGH!"

In her haste to get away Eva pushed Noah to the ground and landed on top of him; the club hit the tree behind them with such force that it cracked its trunk.

"AAAGGGHHH!" they both screamed together, trying to untangle themselves and doing the exact opposite.

Suddenly Noah heard a Tarzan yell, turned his head, and saw Izzy swinging on a vine. She crashed into the troll's head with a big "OOF!," clinging to its neck to keep from falling. The troll was so surprised that it dropped its club, then tried to grab her—Izzy seemed to move at superhuman speed, however, and had already clambered on top of the troll's head by the time it confusedly grabbed at the space where she had previously been.

"WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?!" Eva cried as she finally managed to extricate herself from Noah and stand.

"Distractin' it!" Izzy cried cheerfully, jumping down to the troll's shoulder as it reached for the top of its head. "Quick, use your leet magikal skillz!"

"My _what_?!"

"SHOOT SPELLS AT IT!" Noah said, finally getting up from the dirt.

Eva fumbled with her wand for a moment, but then pointed it directly at the thrashing troll, her face set in snarl. "Izzy, get down or I'm gonna hit you!"

Izzy, who was now clinging to the troll's right arm, jumped off and landed as easily as a cat. "_STUPEFY!_" screamed Eva, and a blast of red light hit the troll in its shoulder. It let out a roar and turned to Eva, its tiny eyes murderous.

Eva blanched. "That was supposed to knock it out."

"Well, it didn't—AGH!"

The troll was running towards them now—Noah and Eva jumped in opposite directions. The troll swung its arms, or tried to—the arm that Eva didn't seem to be moving right. This was good news for Noah, who only avoided the limp appendage by an inch.

The troll ran into a tree and let out another cry of pain. Noah looked around in a panic, saw Izzy trying to lift the troll's club (which was longer than she was tall), and had a desperate idea.

He whipped out his wand. "_Wingardium leviosa!_"

"Hey, I'm doing it! I'm—HEY!"

The club lifted into the air and then out of Izzy's hands. Noah waved his wand at the troll (with some effort—the thin stick suddenly felt as heavy as a baseball bat), and the club went flying, colliding with the troll just as it was getting to its feet.

It let out a cry of pain, collapsed onto its backside and then fell to the ground.

For a long moment nobody moved. "_Oh..._you killed it," Izzy said finally.

"_GOOD!_" Noah and Eva screamed.

"What's all this racket?!"

They all jumped as Chef came in through the branches, clutching the arm of a rather scratched-up Hufflepuff boy named Owen. Chef's other hand was clutching a squirming sack.

"Look who I found sneakin' around the woods! Walked right into a nest of bowtruckles, the little—huh. What happened here?" he said, spotting the unconscious troll.

"What happened?! You abandoned us in the woods and THAT THING almost ate us, that's what happened!" Noah screamed, feeling his face turning red.

He wasn't sure if he expected Chef to be sheepish or angry at his comments, but either way he was disappointed. "Hmm. Well, I'm impressed. Ain't a lot of kids your age who could take down a forest troll by yourselves. Anyway, I got enough bowtruckles for us to call it a night," he said, raising the bag. "Now let's go back to the castle, so I can figure out what _tomorrow's_ detention will be for _this_ little hooligan!"

"But I told you! I was sleepwalking!" Owen whined.

"HEY! CAN WE GET BACK TO THE US-NEARLY-DYING THING! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW—"

"He's not listening," Izzy said casually as she followed Chef back down the path toward the castle.

Noah glared as the others walked away. "I know," he groused, glaring at them.

Suddenly the troll growled and turned in its sleep. Noah jumped, saw that it hadn't woken up, and then marched after the others, his hands balled into fists.

There was quiet for a minute, aside from Owen's soft sniffles; Eva gave Noah an awkward sideways look. "That was a smart idea," she muttered sheepishly. "Knocking it out with its own club."

Though his body was still stiff with anger, Noah shrugged. "Yeah, well...that thing would have probably knocked my head off if you hadn't paralyzed its arm first."

"And she only did _that_ because I managed to distract it!" Izzy said, suddenly throwing her arms around their shoulders. "YAY FOR TEAMWORK! Team Escope saves the day!"

She pulled them into a hug so tight that it knocked their heads together. Noah and Eva both rolled their eyes in unison, but when those eyes met, Noah couldn't help but feel himself smile.

All things considered, these girls were more tolerable than anyone he had met in his own House.

And besides, you couldn't help liking someone after helping them knock out a ten-foot forest troll.

* * *

A few days later, Noah sat down at the Slythern table to eat breakfast (or at least poke his food in disgust). Almost instantly Scott and Lightning appeared on either side of him.

"Hey, smarty-pants. You better actually fly when we go out today."

"Yeah! We've lost enough points because of you already, you—"

Lightning was cut off when Izzy suddenly appeared on his back, giggling like a madwoman.

"HEY! Get off me, crazy girl!"

He got up and tried to shake her off, running around the table; she just kept laughing. The fifth-year prefect, José, got up and began to chase them._  
_

As Scott watched them lap the table, he was suddenly shoved aside as Eva inserted herself between him and Noah. "Excuse me," she said gruffly.

"Hey, this is the _Slytherin_ table! Go sit with the Gryffindors, you mangy li—_AAAGGGHHH!_"

Eva had casually taken his hand and pulled it backwards towards his arm; there was a _crack_ing sound, and Scott jumped up, crying as he ran off for the Hospital Wing.

"Crap. I didn't mean to do it so hard," she mumbled. "I better not get another detention for this." She glanced at Noah. "You don't mind if I sit here, do you?"

Noah glanced past her to where Scott had disappeared out the door, and watched as José pulled at Izzy, unable to dislodge her from Lightning's back.

He grinned.

"As far as I'm concerned? You and Izzy can sit here anytime you like," he said.


End file.
